


When Time Stopped

by dk323



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Drama, Friendship, M/M, Reveal, hughenrymorganday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 14:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6473935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dk323/pseuds/dk323
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Carter dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Time Stopped

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy reading. :D I didn't want the summary to be too spoilery. That's why it's short and sweet (/sad).

**1906**

All Henry saw was pure white as he looked out the window. An awful winter storm had torn through the city, which prevented any of James’s family – his sister and brother at least – from being with him. 

Henry hated to think that James would pass away without his family by his side.

As a result, Henry tried his best to be of any assistance in his dear friend’s final hours. 

It was not easy. He could see just from James’s eyes. They were once dark yet bright and full of hope. But now his eyes held a resigned weariness to them that Henry wished he could fix.

James was his closest friend, and if he had had more time with him, then Henry was certain he would have revealed his secret to him. If he believed his immortality could be transferred to James somehow, he would offer him the choice without a second thought.

Or maybe he wouldn’t even give James the choice. After all, James could refuse to accept Henry’s help, and he would be left watching his friend die, feeling useless that he couldn’t save him. 

But Henry dismissed his dark thoughts, scolding himself for considering forcing this curse of immortality upon James without consent. He couldn’t live with his friend resenting him. 

“Henry?” James said, his voice a whisper, the most he could manage between coughing fits.

Immediately, Henry went to his friend’s aid as he adjusted his pillow, moving him into a seated position. He gave James a new handkerchief, the one he’d been using had become bloody and required washing.

James turned to Henry, a helpless look on his face as drops of blood fell on the new cloth. He let out a painful, wretched cough. Though he appeared to want to say something, he paled, looking so exhausted. Henry knew it took energy for him to speak now, his throat raw from coughing up blood.

“That’s all right, James. Here’s some water.” Henry said, pressing a glass of water into James’s shaky hands.

Henry helped him with the glass, holding it steady for James as he sipped the water. 

James peered at him meaningfully. After so much time at James’s bedside, Henry had learned to read his expressions. And he didn’t like what he was seeing.

Henry was sure James was asking him to end it for him, make the pain, the misery go away. No amount of water and making him feel comfortable would help. Henry couldn’t stop the blood from leaving his friend’s body through torturous coughing, his lungs being ravaged inside of him. And Henry couldn’t give him the cure he desperately wished he could have.

“Please James, don’t be like that. I know it hurts, but I cannot live with himself in peace knowing I killed you. Even if it’ll be a painless death from a sedative.”

James sighed, and he turned his head away from Henry.

“I’m sorry.” Henry said, his tone earnest.

“I need to be alone.”

“No, I will not leave you.”

James turned his head to face him again, a bad cough delaying what he wanted to say.

 _“But I will leave you.”_ Henry saw the words clearly across James’s face as if he’d said them out loud.

Despite James’s protests, Henry remained. He limited speaking with James – recognizing that his friend wasn’t in the mood for talk – even idle chatter about anything but the illness. Though he couldn’t bear long periods of silence, anxious to fill it, Henry made the best of the quiet. He would rather keep the silence than leave James’s bedside.

Outside, the strong wind howled angrily with the snow whipping at the glass – being aided by the wild fast-moving wind. It appeared as if the sound of the storm was filling the silence holding court inside.

“Perhaps I should have taken you to the hospital. They could have made you more comfortable, provided you the medical support you need.”

Henry remembered James had insisted he stay at his apartment. He’d rather be in his own familiar bed when the time came instead of being another patient in a hospital bed. It was ironic of course considering he was a physician. But Henry understood – treating patients was one thing, becoming a patient and having to follow the doctor’s orders was another matter. Doctors were not ideal patients to say the least.

Yet Henry still felt guilty. He was only one doctor, but he couldn’t cure James’s affliction. What good was he then? If he could simply make his friend comfortable, pass with as little pain as possible, then what was the point? 

James smiled at him. This time it was genuine as his eyes even brightened, and he appeared to be in a better mood. Henry didn’t want to dwell on the reason why. That maybe James had made peace with himself, and was ready for the end to come, for his final rest.

“You are enough. You always were, Henry,” James said quietly.

James reached out his hand to Henry, but he was already there, grasping James’s hand, holding on to it like it was his anchor to his dying friend.

“James, don’t. Please. Stay. You can defeat this,” Henry urged him in vain. 

But James’s eyes had fluttered closed. Henry was sure James returned the pressure on his hand, the strength was weak but Henry felt it all the same.

James’s hand fell limp in his, and so with grim reluctance, Henry checked James’s pulse at his wrist. There was none, confirming something he knew but hoped wasn’t true.

Henry couldn’t take it upon himself to let go of James. That if he would, James would disappear before his eyes.

After a few impossibly long moments, Henry’s eyes widened at what was happening in front of him. 

James’s hand was glowing red. And then soon, his entire body was enveloped in this strange red glow, the shade of red reminding Henry of the blood staining the handkerchiefs James had coughed into.

“James?”

Rationally, he knew James was dead.

He wasn’t breathing, he had no pulse, and he was cool to the touch. From his doctor’s eye, James was not living any longer.

But being immortal too granted Henry the ability to be more open-minded. He wanted to know the red glow’s purpose. 

When the glow subsided, Henry waited with bated breath. Even the storm outside quieted, or Henry was so focused, so intent on James’s body that the storm’s cacophony of noise turned silent to his ears.

Opening his eyes, James took a big breath as if he had been underwater and was relishing the supply of oxygen he could now inhale.

Henry jumped up out of his chair. 

“My God, James!” Henry exclaimed, surprised but still a happy feeling welled up inside of him and he clung to the beautiful emotion. He hoped he wasn’t dreaming. 

He couldn’t be. He was awake. 

James looked at Henry, puzzled, his brows knitted together in his confusion. “I feel better. Better than I have in months. I don’t understand.”

Henry was too full of elation to come back down to the land of reason just yet. 

He hugged James to him. James, still disoriented, reciprocated the gesture – swept up in the enthusiasm of the moment Henry thought.

He felt so grateful, so happy, that he believed it was contagious. Henry could almost feel the joy coming off of him in waves.

Then Henry felt tears prickling at his eyes. He wasn’t sure why they were there. But then they traitorously began to fall. All that time taking care of James, desperate to find a cure, only to settle on watching his good friend weaken as he approached death’s door. And now James was alive. And he was well. He was somehow cured.

It was a tangled mess of emotions and Henry kept his arms around James, wanting him to remain close.

James obliged him, patting him on the back, massaging it a bit as if to soothe him.

“Don’t do that, Henry. It’s all right. I’m here. I’m fine.”

Henry wanted to laugh. Here was James calming him as if he had been the sick one. Still, it was so nice to hear his friend’s voice when only minutes ago, Henry had thought he’d never hear him speak again.

Henry let him go, but he stayed on the bed, sitting beside him. He took a deep breath, exhaling it, regaining his composure as best as he could. He swiped at his still wet face with his hand. 

“Maybe you need a handkerchief,” James suggested lightly, smiling at Henry.

Henry laughed, the sound surprising him. But it was welcome as he’d found it hard to feel happy, cheerful during James’s illness. It had been a challenge to muster up the spirit to even chuckle.

“Yes perhaps I do.”

But he didn’t seek out one. Henry was too focused on looking at James, alive and well, before him. He feared if he turned away from him, that James would die again when he returned his attention to him. 

Tentatively, Henry put out his hand to James’s chest, to feel his heart beating against his chest.

James placed his own hand over Henry’s. “I’m alive, Henry. Believe me.”

Henry smiled. He shook his head, dropping his hand. “Forgive me, James. I’m simply shocked.”

James frowned. “Henry, did I die? I thought I did, but I can’t be alive now if that was the case. Don’t you think so?”

Henry gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Yes of course, James. And your body must have fought off the tuberculosis. It’s rare for this to happen, but not impossible. We should get you examined at the hospital, make absolutely certain.”

James nodded. “I wonder though if I’m missing something. I’m not sure what.”

“You have a second chance at life, James. We must celebrate that,” Henry told him.

“We should.”

Henry could practically see the wheels turning in James’s mind. James was an inquisitive man – he was a doctor after all. One who Henry viewed as his equal. Yes, James didn’t have the many years Henry had of observing people, of seeing all manner of illnesses and ailments. But he knew James would question the miraculous turn his life had taken. It would be on the back of his mind, a permanent inquiry until he found the answer. 

And Henry wondered if he should tell James now about his immortality. But he was concerned that no matter how unintentionally, he had transferred his immortality to James. Even if he was baffled where the red glow had come from. What if he glowed too when he died – but he never knew it since he was dead after all. 

Henry’s dark wish might have come true. If James hadn’t just come back from the dead, but stopped aging too as Henry had, then it would be conceivable Henry had put this curse on him. Without meaning to, without even knowing he was capable of such an act.

And if that was true, was he himself still immortal? It wasn’t possible to give something to someone else and still have that thing remain inside you.

Unless… Henry decided comparing it to an ailment would be accurate. Like a contagious illness, someone who still exhibited symptoms would expose another person to it and they would both be ill. 

Realizing this parallel caused Henry to feel worse. And if James didn’t have his disease any longer, then that would be another similarity to Henry’s condition. Besides the scar from his gunshot wound from his first death, any diseases or injuries he’d gained vanished upon coming back to life.

“Henry? Henry, are you all right?” James’s voice of concern brought Henry out of his thoughts.

“I—I’m good, James.” His voice was shaky to his ears, but the need to escape the room outweighed proving to James he was fine. 

James wouldn’t be fooled by Henry’s weak assurance. No sane person would.

Henry stood up. “I’ll go and make us something to eat.” He said, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush as he walked backwards toward the door.

James raised his brow. “Henry, what is it? I’m worried about you.”

Henry gave him a half-smile, his hand twisting the doorknob behind him.

James climbed out of bed, standing up. He walked to Henry, approaching him slowly as if Henry would attack at any time.

“You need your rest, James,” Henry said.

“I feel like a new man. I’ve grown tired of lying in bed. I think my back feels a little sore from it.”

“I’ll return soon.”

James was in front of him now, mere inches from his face. “I want you to stay.”

He reached out his hand and cradled Henry’s cheek. Henry closed his eyes, enjoying the soft touch of James’s hand.

Upon opening his eyes, Henry decided to brush off his worries for a short while. His friend was alive when he should be dead. He should take time to enjoy this happiness, celebrate as he’d said.

Henry had never done this with James, but now he couldn’t resist. He pressed his lips to James’s, nervous at first. He wasn’t sure how James would handle the unexpected progression in their friendship.

But he returned the kiss to Henry’s relief.

“If this is how you celebrate, Henry, then I have to approve,” he said, his eyes twinkling in mischief.

Henry chuckled, and then he embraced James again. He was calmed by how solid James felt, that he wasn’t a ghost, that he was alive, breathing, and standing before him.

That night, Henry slept beside James, one hand resting on James’s chest over his heart. 

~ * ~

Henry had to admit he hadn’t handled James’s coming back from dead as well as he should have. He himself had tested James the day following his miraculous recovery. The result proved what Henry could not deny. James didn’t have tuberculosis anymore. As inexplicably as Henry’s immortality, James had been cured and come back to life after irrefutably dying.

Yet Henry chose not to confide in James. He was concerned how James would handle it. Perhaps he wouldn’t believe what Henry told him. Even if Henry admitted he was immortal, and that James wouldn’t be the only one who lived with this condition, he couldn’t bear to put his friend through that. Burdened with the knowledge that his future may have no end. 

Added to that, the guilt weighing on him as he still considered the possibility that he had made James immortal, no matter how unintentionally.

Only months later, Henry decided to move back to England. James seemed to suspect Henry was avoiding him. Still, he let Henry go on the ship. Yet that didn’t leave Henry fooled into complacency. James would find out what Henry was keeping from him.

Nothing was stopping James from traveling to England after all. And if he was truly immortal as Henry believed, then outliving him was not a solution.

**March 1912**

After five years, James finally came to see Henry.

“You know, Henry, I think I’ve escaped the inheritance.”

Henry looked up from his tea. “What’s that?”

James gave a long sigh. “I turned 40 two years ago. The men in my family have an unfortunate tendency to get grey hairs by the age of 40. My brother has it too, and he’s still in his thirties. And yet, somehow it must have skipped me.”

“James…”

James’s pointed stare at him was one Henry couldn’t turn away from. James was pressing him for an explanation. And Henry had to give him something. Five years he’d run away from this. He knew he should be brave and tell him the truth. James was his friend, one he didn’t wish to lose, and he deserved to know.

“If I’m reaching too far here, please say something. I’ve been wondering about that night I thought I would die. Something happened to me. More than being cured of tuberculosis. And you were there, Henry. You saw something, didn’t you?”

“James, this won’t be easy,” Henry warned him.

“I want to understand. Please just tell me.”

Henry took a deep breath, letting it out, and then he said, “You weren’t breathing, James. You had no pulse. I believed you were dead.”

“Then how am I alive now?”

Henry raised his hands in defeat, then rubbed his face in frustration. He dropped his hands on the table in front of him. He peered down into cooling cup of tea. 

“Henry?”

He looked up at James. He felt vulnerable, exposed as he continued to hold James’s gaze. 

“I don’t want you to hate me, James. I value our friendship.”

“Says the man who traveled across an entire ocean, several thousand miles away, to avoid me.”

“I was afraid. The truth may be hard to take.”

“What did you see, Henry?” James demanded, his voice hard, unwilling to back down.

“A red glow appeared across your whole body. I don’t know where the glow came from or why it was there. But I believe it healed you, brought you back to life. You may have to accept the fact that you are immortal, James.”

“And why do you sound like you believe it?”

Henry finished off his tea, not even caring that it was lukewarm at best. The spice in the tea was a welcome sharp taste in his mouth. A momentary distraction he needed especially now.

Not having the strength to look James in the eye, he looked down at the table as he spoke.

“I don’t believe I have cared as much for another man as I do for you, James.”

Taking Henry’s hand in his own, he squeezed it. “No matter what you say, I’m not going to abandon you. You don’t think I’m that weak, do you, Henry? I can handle it. I care deeply for you too. That’s why I was hurt when you left New York. But I didn’t have the energy to fight with you. I knew I needed to stay. I had to be with my family, enjoy the time I didn’t think I’d have with them after I’d been diagnosed.”

“I just told you you’re immortal, James. I imagine you need time alone to consider what this means for your life.”

“Maybe yes. But not when I know you still need to tell me something. But…Henry, are you immortal? Is that why you believe in it?”

Henry was surprised that James had guessed correctly. Although it wasn’t a big leap to make. 

“I have decent observational skills too, Henry. Not as good as you and your instant diagnoses, true, but I’m passable I hope.”

“More than,” Henry was quick to assure him.

“Right. Well. So you are?”

He nodded, feeling anxious yet relieved to admit to it. “I was born in 1779, and discovered I was immortal 35 years later. But I come back to life differently than you. I wake up in the nearest body of water without my clothes on.”

“None at all?”

“It has led to some difficult situations, but I have no control over it.”

“Well that’s certainly a side of you I hadn’t expected.”

“If I must be honest, I’d prefer a glow if I had to be immortal. But Fate had decided something else for me.”

James twisted his lips, seeming to hold back a laugh. “I’m sorry. Sorry. I was just imagining you coming out of the water naked.”

Henry frowned. But he couldn't stay affronted for long. As he observed James -- the light in his eyes, the smile on his lips, the way his hair curled asking to be touched; Henry was left with an image of James that he never wished to forget.

There was still a lot to discuss, to make sense of, and yet Henry was happy. Happier than he’d been in a long time. 

He’d never thought he’d know someone else who was immortal like him. Someone who he considered a friend and could trust. 

The years stretching out in front of him, going on forever, seemed more bearable now.

As Henry gave James a significant look, impatient to kiss him; he said, “I can say I prefer not having my clothes on in bed. Care to join me?”

James peered at him intently, eyes darkening.

“If you insist, my very old friend.”

He flashed him a smile, which Henry returned.

He was looking forward to what the future would bring. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~


End file.
